


A Touch of Winter

by Niknak



Series: Red Coat, Blue Coat [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Play Fighting, Tumblr Prompt, no really it's just fluff, thar be fluff in these them hills, winter is coming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:05:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niknak/pseuds/Niknak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John laughed loudly as Calli squealed and squirmed. His cold fingers had slid up under her warm jacket and shirt, pressing against unprotected flesh as the chilled skin of his face nuzzled against her warm neck. The effect was dramatic and Calli hissed, batting him back away form her person.</p>
<p>“Nuuuuuu, cold skin, you are freezing!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little drabble to get back into writing, I'm hella rusty so go easy on me, please~  
> My first piece for Fallout 4 (hi I'm new) and my first shot at cutesy romance/couple fluff, I think I did...something? XD  
> Un-beta'd, all mistakes are my own, pardon.
> 
> Tumblr prompt: Person A comes home to find Person B snuggled on the couch. A gives B a hug, and B screams that A is cold. A touches all over B’s body with cold hands, and playfighting ensues until they’re both warm.
> 
> It'll be slow in the beginning, wonky in the middle, and cheesy toward the end.
> 
> ENJOY~!

Winter.

Calli remembered a simpler time, a time where having the temperature dip below freezing and baring witness to flurries of white drifting from the sky was greeted with adoration and relish. A dazzling time where every body was set in the most vivid of color against banks of crisp, unmarred white. 

She could recall, with perfect clarity, her first snow. She had stood, quite impatiently, while her mother bundled her in more layers than was necessary. Sweater, jacket, parka, much-too-big coat, mittens, scarf… Calli felt much like a baby whale when it was all said and done. The warmth her mother had in her eyes that day, warmth that was rarer to find into Calli’s adult years, was what she recalled most fondly. The older women had been just as excited as she to see the snow. Naturally, however, her mothers poor health prevented her from going out but, for whatever reason, Calli was being allowed to head into the snowy scape like the big girl she always told her mother she was! 

A big girl who, immediately out of the gate, stuck her tongue on the largest icicle she could find. Regret, instantaneous and hot, settled in her belly and cheeks as her mother roared with laughter over her daughters misfortune. Calli wasn’t sure what she found more amusing in hindsight, the things she called her mother for laughing at her or what she sounded like over the icicle. Both, really. For a four year olds repertoire of name calling, while colorful, was usually more amusing then anything else. No matter how much spite and dislike four year old Calli might have put behind ‘dum dum’ and ‘meany butt’, it was hardly something to take seriously. More so over a large bit of ice stuck to her tongue.  
Despite wanting to be completely free from her mother’s ever watchful gaze, Calli hadn’t strayed far from home. Indeed, that was a reoccurring theme in her life. When something was comfortable, Calli would latch on to it, hold it close and tend to it with everything she had. 

Sanctuary Hills, now just Sanctuary to the new residence, had been a fairly well-to-do suburb where Calli Stoval put down her many hats and enjoyed a respectable respite from the world. It had been a modest two bedroom home where she had planned to set up a workout room for boxing and training. Instead, the room had turned into an impromptu baby room when her childhood friend, Nate Sullivan, had came upon her in his time of need. 

The image of pre-war baby Shaun’s room flooded Calli’s mind and she cringed as grief and anger lit low in her gut. Shaun never got his first snow. Nate had never gotten to bundle his son up and send him out into the white to discover the dangers of icicles and freedom.

Dark brown eyes stared across at the post-war kitchen as the sole survivor of vault 111 batted the negative thoughts away. Laid across the counter top were cans a plenty. She and Hancock had been scavenging more and more lately, gathering as many supplies as they could. Cans were stacked five high in some places, ten in a few corners where Hancock had gotten away from her while higher than a kite.

The memory made Calli smile. 

Oh how she adored her ghoul, he never failed to make her smile. John Hancock had put up with a lot form her over the recent months, and she for him, naturally. They fit so well together and sometimes it still surprised her how easy it was to hand herself over to him, to trust, to love. If anyone had told Calli that she would have fallen completely head-over-heels for a drug-dependent, snarky, ghoulified mayor, she’d had laughed herself silly. 

Calli had meet no one like John pre-war, not just for his ghoulification, but for the unshakable confidence that built him and the kind heart that compelled him. Those were an unusual combination in her experience. He was charismatic and dauntless, and certainly not shy about what he wanted. Honestly, Calli had been wholly startled, and completely thrown, by his honesty, true and sharp, in all he did. There was no one before, or since, that would compare with John. Perhaps she was just biased, but Calli was sure that no matter the circumstance nothing could produce another man like hers.

Speaking of, Calli wondered just where her companion was. He had gone into the settlement to dish out the fare from their last trek into the wasteland. It shouldn’t have taken him quite so long, however. The temperature was dropping steadily and she worried for him. As a ghoul, Hancock couldn’t maintain his body temperature as well as a human’s could. No matter how me he loved it, that patched up old frock was not in anyway, shape, or form appropriate protection from the cold.

In order to distract from the squirming worry in her belly, Calli returned to her abandoned sketches. She hadn’t gotten very far before the house had begun to dig up old memories. Tossing them at her as if she was due some heartache. Sketching was a way to lessen her worries, direct her energies elsewhere. Lines of charcoal littered the stained page with shapes that looked suspiciously like icicles.

Glaring at the sketch book for a moment, yet not finding an ounce of inspiration or reason to continue, Calli tossed the book on to the small, rickety coffee table. She watched as the legs wobbled with the weight. No matter how many times she thought about it, the darned thing never managed to get fixed. There was always something more pressing at the top of the to-do list. Surely though, there were a pair of hands around here that could do the job while she tended to settlements, collected junk, and saved the wasteland…surely. 

With a dramatic and exaggerated sigh, Calli tossed the blanket she had cocooned herself in over her head and flopped back against the sagging sofa arm. She wanted very badly to have John there to snuggle with. The two of them under a blanket could really get fun. Though, too much fun might do in the piece-meal couch if she was honest.

The sofa had been one of her first repair jobs, back when only the Minutemen and herself occupied the town. It had also served a her bed, so extra care had been taken. Many a home had been tossed in her search for just the right cushions. Any couch with any form of intact upholstery was ripped from it’s ruins to serve a greater purpose. Her greater purpose.

Hancock had been quite impressed with it. Calli had preened under the praise. He was probably just being kind, but, she would take it. At first, John had thought it odd that Calli would prefer the couch to a bed in her own room. However, it had been very, very hard to go back into that room alone. She had shared it with Nate out of necessity. Seeing as the only other room then had held a crib. However, many a night had found Calli on her couch. It was the very first purchase she had ever made for herself, back in her college dorm days. With that first roommate, whats-her-face, learning the hard way that nothing was to befall the couch less hell be loosened upon them. It only took one spill for the threat to be taken seriously. 

Snuggling into the worn, sturdy back Calli shifted onto her side, twisting just enough to see out of the window. Hoping to catch a glimpse of John as he returned. She was distracted by the barren wall where the tv once sat. It had been scrapped, along with most of the pre-war appliances, to provide basics for the settlement. It had been surprisingly cathartic to take things apart, break them down, and put them to work for the many. 

“Of the people, for the people.” She whispered fondly.

It had been hard to part with a few things. The coffee maker, worse of all, as it made her break down in tears. Dogmeat had whined for the longest time, trying to find the source of her distress. Figuring out it was the coffee maker, the beautiful creature had barked at it, clamped her jaws around the handle, and walked it out of sight. Preston Garvey had been mildly concerned to see the canine burying the thing just outside of the settlement. 

She refused to give up the washer and drier, though. Vehemently, refused. Those puppies were getting repaired! Calli had a way with machines, it was the reason why she applied for a contract working with power armor for the military back in the day. She’s be damned to loose the technology behind clean cloths that didn’t have to be done by hand! While he didn’t understand her bullheaded instance at the time, Preston had helped her round up all the washers and dryers in Sanctuary that could be fixed and moved them, with Calli, to a ‘safe place’. Safe meaning far away from Sturges who was just as likely to take them apart out of pure fascination as he was to help her put them back in working order. Hancock, for his part, dutifully accompanied Calli on her gathering sessions for parts.

Calli would lovingly and painstakingly breakdown the large frames then methodically maneuver parts to carry. That was all they would do on those trips since everything was bulky and heavy. The more she worked at it, the more determined Calli got. Hancock, though he never said anything against it, saw the endeavor for what it was: a distraction. Granted, Calli knew it was a long shot and, yes, the work was mostly to distract her and give her something to focus on because, hello, irradiated fallout America anyone? Pardon her for needing a few dozen distractions.

So, side by side, they would remove wire and plating. Filling up bags and pockets and Dogmeat’s saddle before heading back to Sanctuary. Recently, though, Calli had abandoned the project in favor of searching for food stuff and bedding. With the weather turning as it was, Sanctuary had attracted more and more wastelanders into her warm and safe embrace. It made Calli proud and filled with purpose as she moved about the new inhabitance, welcoming them, taking in their stories, giving them attention and respect and provisions. No one was going to hurt, go hungry or freeze on her watch. 

Hancock had only recently arrived, how she had missed him, Goodneightbor taking up most of his time prior. Calli figured once his lot was taken care of, everything provided for, he would find his way to Sanctuary. She hadn’t expected for Hancock to roll up to the gates with a large red sack of goodies. Nor for him to start gaily entertaining all with a hilarious tale of Ol’ Stately Nicolas, his nine flying ghouls -one glowed-, and how the bag of goodies was for every good boy and girl who could tell him one good thing they did in their life.

The sentiment was well received though, the kids enjoyed the entertainment and the adults appreciated the distraction. Gratefully, Preston took over distribution and Calli was able to drag her lover into a quite room for some much needed attention. 

Warmth bloomed through her body as Calli recalled all that that attention had included. They never had any trouble being intimate at the drop of a hat, something Calli had never found with another man. Perhaps it was the constant dangers of the wasteland with one never knowing what each day, each fight, would bring or take away. Whatever it was, she was wholly grateful to be so completely devoted and secure in what she and Hancock had.

“I’m assuming this is you hibernating, hm, Mama Bear?”

Calli nearly fell off the couch at the sudden voice. She hadn’t even heard the front door open as Hancock arrived back home. The husk of his voice made something flutter around in her, the playful tone dragging a wide smile to her lips. Wanting to be near him that second, but being firmly restricted, Calli violently began flailing about in her blanket-cocoon.

Hancock observed with great amusement, watching as Calli somehow found her way out, back into the world. As she finally laid eyes on John she sighed and her entire being softened. All for him, everything was for this, for them. It made it so much easier to be and do and exist. 

Damn if she wasn’t a sap.

Freeing her torso, and not having the patience to fix her legs, Calli pushed up on to her knees and all but launched herself over the back of the couch and into John’s waiting arms. Chuckling good-naturally, the ghoul tightly wrapped his lover up, pulling her close to him as he leaned over the back of the couch, keeping Calli kneeling as he buried his face in her neck.

“EEEEEEEEK!”

John laughed loudly as Calli squealed and squirmed. His cold fingers had slid up under her warm jacket and shirt, pressing against unprotected flesh as the chilled skin of his face nuzzled against her warm neck. The effect was dramatic and Calli hissed, batting him back away form her person.

“Nuuuuuu, cold skin, you are freezing!” The was a pause as she went from petulant to concerned. “John, you’re freezing! We have to get you warmed up. Why were you out so long? You should have been back ageEEEEEEEEEEK!” 

While he adored her concern for him, really he did, Hancock was far more interested in teasing his lady love and quickly reached over to stroke a cold hand against the back of her neck. 

“Stop that!” She snapped, though there was no heat in her words, a smile still playing at her lips. 

“Ah, come on now, you’re breaking this ghouls fragile heart. You don’t want me to touch you even though I’ve been gone all day?” He smoothed out a grin be hind his hand as a little frown puckered her lips, her brows drew down as Hancock did his best to be unhappy and serious, for a few moments. He twitched his fingers in Calli’s general direction and she twisted back, away for the offending digits. “See, I was just thinkin’, since you do run a few degrees warmer than the average bear, you might be willin’ to warm-up this ragged body of mine?” 

The wink did her in, suggestive enough to flood her system with want yet still playful enough to keep some of her wits about her. John was throughly enjoying watching her devolve into a giggling, squirming mess as as she attempted to find some safe distance from his wiggling fingers. While he enjoyed the girls sqeals, there was something he very much wanted to hear from her cute little mouth. Quick as a whip his hands were on her again, one at the stripe of exposed flesh at Calli’s waist while the other caught her neck, both tickling her something fierce. 

“Dagnabbit, John! Cut that oooooooooout! Nuuuuuu! Cooooooold!” She giggled, snorted, and covered her mouth with the hand not fruitlessly pushing him away.  
There it was.

“Not likely, sunshine.” Hancock purred, quickly running the hand at her waist up, under the front of her shirt, running over the scars and strechmarks he had long since memorized. Call squealed and attempt to knock his hand away. In the distraction, John darted forward, capturing her lips with an aggressive kiss. Calli was at first compelled to return the passion but was quickly shocked by how cold John really was. As if reading her mind, and not giving her a chance to grow much more concerned, Hancock’s tricky hands began jumping to different spots on his lovers body. Bringing with them a dizzying rush of sensation.

The shock each cold touch brought also ignited a flare of heat chasing close behind. It was an odd sensation, not unpleasant -though Calli could do with less cold on her warm person, thank you- but oddly satisfying, nonetheless. If he would just stay still Calli could get him under the blanket and warm him up. But, nope, he was certainly in a playful mood. 

A cold, rough hand roamed up her back, making Calli hiss in surprise and focus on him once again. “You are a right menace, John Hancock.” She waited as patiently as she could for John’s right hand to slip down over her thigh before pinning it, semi-regretfully, against the couch. Gods if she didn’t love how he touched her. She then reached around for his left and made to stand…before remembering her legs were still bound by the blankets and gracelessly falling over with a thud.

John barked a laugh as she wriggled on the floor trying to extricate herself from the offending blanket. As it was drawn away, Hancock noticed how it had taken her sweats down with it. He needed no more prompting to dive down and take his lovers legs in his cold hands. The strangled sounds she made in protest could have woken the dead. “Aren’t you just a one man heater,” John mused, pressing his cheek against Calli’s warm thight, while simultaneously warming his hands at her belly and sides. He was greedily drinking in the heat she was giving off. It made him feel loose and happy and very much like teasing his sunshine until she was that shade of crimson he just loved. Hancock grinned up at her, flashing teeth. “Just trying to find the right button to really ramp up the heat.” Calli was laughing at the absurdity of it all, trying to wiggle away and bat him off with halfhearted heat. Bitting back soft whimpers and moans as John’s fingers skimmed over her, now sensitive, body, nonstop.

“I don’t think that’s how it works, you silly thing.” 

“Oh? Is. That. So.” It came out as a growl, low and full of gravel. Calli looked down at him curiously before taking in his grin, it was positively predatory. The next shiver that ran up her spine had nothing to do with cold fingers. “Because, way I see it, you’re doing a damn good job warming me up right now, love.” 

“D-don’t think I can take the credit,” She managed to mutter, feeling equal parts embarrassed and aroused. She looked down into John’s face, enjoying the heat she found in the dark pools of his eyes. Calli wanted to knock that hat off his head and drag that blasted coat from his body. Then she’d pull him under the blankets and kiss until they were both more than a little hot under the collar.

Hands slid down her sides, John’s fingers providing a delicious amount of pressure with each drag. Enough to stir up flashes of need in her belly. “Sweetheart, I think you should be taking it all.” 

Well damn. If she wasn’t rattled by the previous ministrations, that line just about did her in. Yet, she wasn’t ready to let the light atmosphere evolve. It was so rare that they got to just play around. Something clicked and Calli was moving before she was thinking, dragging the damn red coat off of Hancock as fast as she could without causing it harm.  
Then she took off with it. 

Hancock sat on the floor, fairly confused because she did not just steal his jacket. No one stole his jacket and got away with it. “That,” He rumbled, pushing up to his knees. “Was a bold move lady.” 

The overly-pleased hum of a reply was enough to get him moving, long legs pushed John toward the kitchen where Calli now stood, grinning like the cat who just got the cream. Not only did she have his coat clasped between those skillful hands but also his tricorn. He stalked around the island, hands on hips. “That’s just tacky love, stealing the cloths right off a mans back.” 

She huffed in mock irritation, backing away as he closed in. “Tacky is putting those ice blocks you call fingers all over a ladies warm body.” She knew those were the wrong -or perhaps correct- words the second they came out of her mouth because that grin was, once again, thrillingly predatory and the hunger she saw in John’s eyes was both electric and terrifying. 

“Um…bye!”

And she took off like a bat out of hell. John was fast behind her as they darted into her bedroom. Both laughing like the love-drunk fools they were. It was a battle of maneuvering and speed as the pair play-fought over and around the bed. Calli slipping like water from Hancock’s grip just when he thought he had caught her. She let Hancock brush against her from time to time, teased him with scant misses of the articles she had stolen, and egged him on with challenging words and glances. 

They continued on in that vein for a good twenty minutes until they were a panting, giggling mess. Calli, having her fill of play and tiered of not being in those strong arms, allowed John to capture her. They sunk gratefully down into the mussed bed, Hancock kicking off his boots as Calli hugged the jacket and hat to her heaving chest. She would continue to giggle in excess for many minutes, it did John’s heart some good to hear it. 

As she calmed, Calli got up and gently placed coat and hat in their rightful places on Hancock’s side of the room. She grabbed a few more blankets and returned to find John in a plain red shirt and grey. It always shocked Calli how different he looked in modern cloths, relatively speaking. There was this black jacket he owned that was just, wow, on him but he only wore it on special occasions. He dressed up well, she had to admit. Dressed down well, too.

“Not that I mind any form of admiration of my personage, but, I would rather you be in bed, in my arms.” John pulled back the sheets on her side to make a point, patting the mattress lovingly. “I promise to behave, if that helps.” 

“Liar.” She chuckled, sticking her tongue out. Hancock tried an abashed smile and failed. He’d behave himself when pigs flew. Part of her wondered, for the briefest moment, if maybe they did do that now, in some part of the wasteland or other.

Calli shook her head and climbed into bed, enjoying the press of their bodies as they got comfortable. “I love you, you silly, silly man.” She tilted her head up and kissed him softly. “Welcome home.”


End file.
